


This One's for The Lonely (the one's that seek and find)

by anythingcanhappenchild



Series: Comes and Goes [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (emotional abuse), (except not really), (mostly), (see notes for more info), (sort of), Angst, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Don’t copy to another site, F/F, Gen, Good Samaritan, Happy Ending, Hurt Skye | Daisy Johnson, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Stand Alone, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teen Daisy, Teen Skye, sort of a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythingcanhappenchild/pseuds/anythingcanhappenchild
Summary: You’ve no idea what you’re doing.But you’re standing next to a woman, who’s standing on the edge of a bridge, wondering why you can’t just keep walking, why you felt the need to stop for this stranger when your stomach’s still growling with hunger and your sores from rat bites have grown harder to ignore.ORWhen Daisy ran away back when she was Skye, she saves a stranger.





	This One's for The Lonely (the one's that seek and find)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another angst-fest! This one has a deceptively happy ending. If you'd like the full angst impact, read my story "This One’s for The Torn Down (the experts at the fall)" from about "You run away when you’re fourteen." to "It’s a few hours after that, when you start to wonder what the Devil needs to do. If God is what makes people act like that.". :-)
> 
> Please see end notes and/or tags for warnings.

You’ve no idea what you’re doing.

But you’re standing next to a woman, who’s standing on the edge of a bridge, wondering why you can’t just keep walking, why you felt the need to stop for this stranger when your stomach’s still growling with hunger and your sores from rat bites have grown harder to ignore.

It doesn’t matter though, she hasn’t said a word since you walked up, not when you whispered hello, not when you gave her your name, not when you whispered pleas in her ear.

You’ve no idea what you’re doing, so you’re stumbling your way through a story, trying to keep it happy, to edit out the bad parts –

(You’re not hungry anymore, when you realize how much you must leave out.)

– because she hasn’t jumped yet, and so you keep going, keep talking, and you have no idea what you’re doing.

Thoughts of grabbing her by the arms, yanking her to the middle of the bridge cross your mind – but what would be the point, she’ll just return once you’re out of sight, once you’re gone because lord knows you can’t stay in one place too long, it’s not in your nature, just like Sister Beth told you – so you start offering promises of protection, quiet offers to help her – money? does she need money? you can get some? you’re pretty good at it after all – and don’t stop until you see her start to drift away, the way you do when you know someone’s lying – and you are, aren’t you, lying, because what can you really do? you can’t even help yourself.

So, you’re mumbling your way through a half-true story about snowball fights and hot coco.

(It happened. You remember looking out the window at their biological kids as you endured the latest lecture about your flaws, about being a proper girl, about being good.)

But she doesn’t need to know the full truth though, just something, anything, to keep her on dry land, so she remembers to fight.

(You’re not sure it will help. Only one person can keep her alive now, you know that better than anyone.)

(Still, you can’t walk away, can’t give up on her.)

(A part of you knows you need this as much as she does, needs to be _good_ , just once, just one time you need to help something – someone – without destroying it, you need something good, something you can think of the next time you’re the one standing on the edge of bridge.)

(The next time you’re standing on the edge of bridge and no one stops to talk to you.)

You’re embellishing the narrative with marshmallows and story times that end well, when she finally glances over at you.

You’re so shocked you stop speaking, just for a moment, but when you try and start again, you can’t remember which lie you were telling and if there’s one way to catch someone in a lie –

But you’re saved with her whispered question, at least until the dread pools into your stomach – why? gonna call social services? – what could she need with your age –

But her raised eyebrow means you missed the mark, and it’s the spark of emotion on her face that causes your heart to leap into your throat.

(You think you’re helping.)

How old are you? you parry back – only twenty? – pretty young to be up there, huh?

You can’t help but smile when she tells you to speak for yourself, her voice just a little more there than a moment ago, just a little bit.

Gallows humor – appropriate, you snark.

And she’s still standing on the edge of a bridge, but something in her eyes is a little closer to you, a little bit more present, more real.

(You’re pulling her back from the ledge.)

(You are.)

So, when she asks you to finish your story, you do, and when she asks for your name, you give it to her.

And when you ask her to talk – she does.

She whispers out tragedies, and you meet them in kind, her breath catches in sobs, and you force your hands to keep still. 

You’ve no idea what you’re doing.

(But you think you’re doing something right.)

She asks you for the real version of that story, and when you stare at her, wide eyed and shocked, she laughs – you changed the names halfway through – and laughs more at your blushing protestations – you distracted me. But when she asks again, you give it to her.

And when you give her your hand, she takes it.

*

It’s been weeks now since she stepped of that bridge, days since you reminded her the age of consent was seventeen, and hours since she agreed to dinner.

(You don’t really know why she had you wheedle her so much, since she clearly already had plans.)

But right now, you don’t care. You’re holding a rose and sitting with her at dinner, and when she orders your food, you smile back at her.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: References to past emotional abuse, depiction of currently in progress suicide attempt, reference to past suicide attempts/thoughts.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is wonderful! And very much appreciated!


End file.
